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And for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honor I repose.
Urge not my father’s anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady’s grief,
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me;
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.
Egl.
Madam, I pity much your grievances,
Which since I know they virtuously are plac’d,
I give consent to go along with you,
Reaking as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go?
Sil.
This evening coming.
Egl.
Where shall I meet you?
Sil.
At Friar Patrick’s cell,
Where I intend holy confession.
Egl.
I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow,
Gentle lady.
Sil.
Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene IV
Enter Launce [with his dog].